Wizard Of Hol - Chapter One
by Two-Faced Goblin
Summary: Wizard Of Oz...Red Dwarf-style
1. Chapter One

**The Wizard Of Hol**

**or**

**"What if…_The Wizard Of Oz _was done with _Red Dwarf_ characters?"**

**For three million years, this story has given faithful service to the smegged in the head; and time has been powerless to put its smeggy philosophy out of fashion. (_"Don't give me that sappy crap, it's too early in the morning!"_)**

**To those of you who have been faithful to it in return – you bunch of smegheads – we dedicate this story. The saga continuums**…

**Disclaimer: _The Wizard Of Oz belongs to MGM. __Red Dwarf belongs to Grant-Naylor. I own nothing, __nothing!_**

**Acknowledgements: In writing this, I referred greatly to _The Wizard Of Oz script I found at The Daily Script, and also several __Red Dwarf scripts from the Red Dwarf scripts archive._**

**Crono…chronno…where in time this smeg is set**: This story is set in the second half of Series 7 of _Red Dwarf_, with a few elements of Series 6 and 8 in there.

Deep space… 

David Lister, the last human being alive (™), bolted into the cockpit of the Jupiter Mining Corporation mining vessel _Starbug_.

"What's up, guys?" he drawled in his Scouse accent. Beside him, the Cat looked up momentarily from his controls.

"It's a rogue simulant, Buddy! I think we pissed him off!"

Lister's brow crinkled. "How'd you do that?"

Kryten piped up from his seat at the science station. "Apparently, we've wandered into his hunting zone, sir!"

"It didn't help when he caught the Cat mooning out the port window at him, either!" Kristine Kochanski piped up from her position at the navigation console.

"Hey, how was I to know he'd take it personally?!" the Cat readily sprang to his own defence.

"Look, regardless of who started it, we've gotta get the smeg outta here!"

Lister twisted his navigational controls sharply to the left, and_ Starbug _followed suit.

"It's no use!" Kochanski shook her head. "He's staying with us."

A sickly beep sounded from Kryten's console. "Incoming message!" he announced.

The simulant's face appeared on the monitor next to Kryten. He wasn't exactly the pinnacle of loveliness – not with the bits of metal poking through his flesh like pimples on the face of a McDonalds staffer. The Cat wrinkled up his nose, and had to keep himself from retching at the decidedly unattractive sight. Gunmetal grey with flesh-tones? What _was _the simulant thinking?!

**"I've got a deal for you,"** the simulant rumbled in his deep, metallic voice. **"Scanners report you've got two humans on board. Hand one over, and I'll let the rest of you go."**

"Two words, man: 'smeg' and 'off'!" Lister crowed, silently giving thanks that Arnold Rimmer wasn't here to automatically surrender.

"Well said, Mister Lister, sir," Kryten said helpfully, "but it does not alter the fact that unless one of you humans surrenders yourself to the simulant, all of us are surely doomed!"

After a moment of thought, he turned to his left. "Care to volunteer, ma'am?"

"No way, Kryters," Lister broke in before Kochanski could come back with any suggestions as to what Kryten could do with his suggestion. "If anyone's goin', it's me."

Kryten jerked backwards slightly in surprise. "But sir, the simulant will surely tear you to pieces…or worse!"

"Only if he catches me, man," Lister replied resolutely. "Prep the escape pod."

* * *

Lister only vaguely remembered what happened next. He remembered getting into the escape pod, with Kryten begging him not to go, and offering himself as a substitute. He remembered launching it, and he remembered the simulant's ship coming around to receive the pod. He remembered loading the waste disposal unit with a thermos of nitro glycerine to make a high-impact garbage cannon, and firing it at the simulant ship, but beyond that, it was all a blur.

Lister staggered out of the wreckage of his crashed pod, bleary-eyed from the slight concussion he'd suffered. When his vision cleared, he couldn't believe his eyes.

He was back. Back on Earth. Or at least, that's how it seemed. Oh, it was a lot brighter than the Earth he remembered, but maybe he just remembered his home planet a lot darker than it really was.

Turning around to gauge the damage to the escape pod, Lister got the fright of his life when he saw something that looked suspiciously like a tarantula crawling out from beneath the debris. Thankfully, it wasn't a tarantula, just a mechanical hand that was twitching on the end of its wiry wrist. The hand had wicked talons on the tips of each finger – it had definitely belonged to a simulant.

Had he brought down an entire simulant ship with just a garbage cannon? Had he, Dave Lister, taken out a killer robot's vessel with nothing more than banana peels and foil vindaloo trays?

In-smegging-credible.

A noise from behind caused him to spin around, aiming his bazookoid threateningly at whatever it was. It wasn't another simulant, just a very beautiful woman clad in a red PVC outfit, who coincidentally looked a lot like Kristine Kochanski…

"Are you a simulant, or a mechanoid?" she asked. Lister responded in a most profound and insightful manner.

"Eh?"

"Are you a simulant, or a mechanoid?" the beautiful woman repeated herself.

"Neither – I'm 'uman!" Lister answered with more than a hint of indignation in his voice. Simulant or mechanoid indeed!

"Oh," the beautiful woman said. "Yes, I see that now. It's just that the Munchkins told me that someone had dropped an escape pod on the Sinister Simulant of the Space Sector. There's the escape pod," she pointed at the remains of the pod, "and here you are."

Lister nodded. Hard to argue with logic like that.

"So what the Munchkins want to know is, are you good or evil?" the woman finished.

"I told you – I'm 'uman! I suppose you're a simulant too, then?"

A high-pitched giggling sounded from all around. Lister spun around warily with his bazookoid.

"What the smeg was that?!"

"The Munchkins," the beautiful woman answered. "They're laughing because I'm human – just like you! My name is Kristine. The Munchkins are happy because you've freed them from the tyranny of the Sinister Simulant."

"Brutal," was all Lister could think of to say. "So who're these 'Munchkins', then?"

"The little people who live in this land," said the beautiful woman. "This is Munchkin-Land, and you've just become their national hero."

She turned away from Lister for a moment and called out to seemingly nothing. "It's okay. You can come out now."

Suddenly, everywhere seemed to come alive. Little men and women – curiously, all wearing the same weaselly-looking face – poured out from every hiding place imaginable. They popped up from inside houses, from trees, from under rocks. Some even appeared from beneath manholes, and leapt out of outhouses.

**In case you haven't worked it out, these are the Rimmer Munchkins from the Rimmer Munchkin Song in 'Blue' – TFG**

Before Lister's astonished eyes, Hammond organ music began to play from nowhere, and the Munchkins began to dance and sing.

"Ding Dong!  The Sim is dead. Which old Sim? The Sinister Sim! Ding Dong!  The Sinister Sim is dead. Wake up, you smeghead. Rub your eyes. Get out of bed. Wake up, the Sinister Sim is dead!"

Lister immediately loaded his bazookoid and let off a volley up in the air. It was enough to send the Munchkins scattering, their song abruptly interrupted.

"I _cannot _standsingin' midgets!" Lister growled.

Slowly, the Munchkins reassembled, though much more warily than before. A Munchkin clad in a resplendent red uniform approached Lister.

"As the Mayor of the Munchkin City, in the County of the Land of Hol," he said, perhaps a little too rhythmically, "I welcome you most regally."

"But we have to verify it legally!" another Munchkin, this one dressed in gallant green, piped up.

"To see if the simulant is morally, ethically, spiritually, physically…"

"Oh, shut the smeg up and get to the point!" Lister snarled. He wasn't usually this stroppy, but leprechauns who looked an awful lot like Rimmer tended to get him in a bad mood.

"…dead." The green-clad Munchkin finished, sneering at Lister for good effect.

A Munchkin clothed in blustering blue returned from the crash site. After seeing Lister's warning glare, he stopped himself from singing, and delivered the coroner's report in as few words as he could.

"He's dead, alright. Dead as a can of SPAM."

A great cheer went up from all the Munchkins.

"Then this is a day of independence, for all the Munchkins and their descendants!" the red-clad Mayor crowed triumphantly. This, of course, set off all the other Munchkins, who immediately broke into song again.

"Ding Dong!  The Sim is dead. Which old Sim? The Sinister Sim! Ding Dong!  The Sinister Sim is dead!!"

Lister reloaded his bazookoid, but this time, he didn't fire it off into the air. He fired it into the crowd, nearly hitting several Munchkins and reducing them to charcoal.

"I told you, I can't stand singin' midgets!" he growled with as much venom as he had ever put into one sentence.

Suddenly, there was an explosion, and the Munchkins scattered, all trying to find the best place to hide. Even Kristine jumped a little.

As the smoke cleared, the figure responsible for the explosion was revealed. It was another simulant, this one bigger and uglier than the last one.** This is the simulant from 'Beyond A Joke' – TFG**

**"'Oo killed 'im, then?"** he growled. **"'Oo killed me bruvver?"**

"Sorry, matey," Lister apologised. "I wasn't exactly lookin' to _kill _'im – it just happened!"

**"Didn't mean it, eh? Accident, eh?"** the simulant snickered. **"Well, my fine fellow, I can cause accidents, too – and this is how I do it!"**

Just as the Sinister Simulant of the Other Space Sector was raising his own bazookoid, Kristine piped up.

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

The Simulant stopped, thought for a moment, then lowered his gun.

**"Of course! The golden guitar!"** the Simulant said in a hushed voice, as if the object he spoke of was too holy to speak of too loudly.

The Simulant ran towards the wreckage and began ferreting through it.

**"It's gone!"** he howled. **"The golden guitar!"**

Lister felt a sudden weight around his neck. Looking down, he discovered a golden guitar hanging from its splendid strap.

**"Oi!"** the Simulant yelled. **"Give that back or else!"**

"It's too late," Kristine said smugly. "There it is, and there it'll stay."

**"I'm the only one wot knows 'ow to use it! Ain't no use t' you!" **the Simulant snarled.

"Keep hold of that guitar at all times," Kristine cautioned Lister. "It must be very powerful for him to want it so badly."

**"You keep out of this, woman!"** the Simulant warned her.

"Oh, smeg off!" she retorted. "You have no power here! Be gone, before someone shoots _you _with a garbage cannon!"

"Yeah, you heard her," Lister chipped in. "On your space-bike."

**"Awroight,"** the Simulant conceded. **"I'll bide me time… You just try an' stay out o' my way, just try! I'll be 'aving roast 'uman wiv mint sauce before long!"**

A cloud of smoke billowed up, completely concealing the Simulant. When the smog cleared, the simulant was gone.

"It's okay," Kristine was saying. "You can come out now. He's gone."

As the Munchkins cautiously made their way out, making sure that nothing else was going to go up in smoke any time soon, Lister turned to Kristine.

"Look, it's real nice 'ere and all, but I'd just as soon get back to my ship. Any way I can do that? Coz I don't think I'll be leavin' the same way I came in…"

"No, that's true…" Kristine mused. "That's a little beyond my power. The only person who could help you with that is the great and powerful Wizard of Hol."

"'Wizard of Hol'?" Lister repeated incredulously. "Alright, then. Which way to this 'Wizard of Hol'?"

Kristine gestured in front of her. "He lives in the Crimson City, and that's a long journey from here. Just follow the Red Brick Road."

"Red Brick Road, eh?" Lister took a cautious step, just in case it was going to explode or something. Then another, and another, and another. Before long, he was halfway down the path.

Then the Munchkins exploded into song again.

"Follow the Red Brick Road. Follow the Red Brick Road. Follow, follow, follow, follow, follow the Red Brick Road. Follow the Red Brick, follow the..."

The Munchkins scattered again after a warning volley from Lister's bazookoid.

"What did I say about singin' midgets?"

And with that, Lister started off down the Red Brick Road, pumping out a bass beat with his cheeks and lips.

"I didn't come here lookin' for trouble, I just came to do the Red Brick Road shuffle…" he sung. **This is to the tune of the 'Red Dwarf Shuffle' song briefly featured in 'Backwards' – TFG.**


	2. Wizard Of Hol - Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: _The Wizard Of Oz belongs to MGM. __Red Dwarf belongs to Grant-Naylor. I own nothing, __nothing!_**

**Acknowledgements: In writing this, I referred greatly to _The Wizard Of Oz script I found at The Daily Script, and also several __Red Dwarf scripts from the Red Dwarf scripts archive._**

As Lister strolled down the road, wishing with all his might that he had a curry, or at least a can of lager, he came to a fork in the road.

"Oh 'ay!" he moaned. "Which way now?"

"You could go that way, you jumped-up gimboid!"

Lister jumped at the sound of this new voice. "Who's that, then?"

"Or that way, you pregnant-baboon-bellied space bum!"

Lister loaded his bazookoid, ready for anything that might leap out at him. As he looked around suspiciously, he spied a thin, weaselly-faced man with an 'H' on his forehead trapped inside a shimmering force-field.

"Or of course, you could always go to hell, you stupid git!" the trapped man sneered.

"What's yer beef, man?" Lister asked. "All I'm tryin' to do is get to this Crimson City, so I can get the smeg outta here. Who're you, anyway?"

"Captain Arnold J. Rimmer, space adventurer," the trapped man replied. "I was attacked by an emotion-sucking polymorph, which sucked out all my decency. I was left like this – a petty-minded, selfish piece of sputum in the toilet bowl of humanity. I was imprisoned by my crewmates when I got too insufferable, and left here for all eternity."

"What, you're not going to die?"

Rimmer pointed to his 'H'. "I'm a hologram, aren't I?" he droned in a passable imitation of Lister's accent. "God, you're thick!"

Lister thought for a moment. "I'm goin' to see this Wizard of Hol fellow. He might be able to help you, y'know, get yer decency back and all."

Rimmer shrugged. "Worth a shot, I suppose. Just get me out of this holo-cage."

Lister pressed a few buttons on the control panel beside the holo-cage, and the shimmering energy field disappeared.  
"Ah. Free at last!" Rimmer crowed.

"I should warn you, though," Lister said, "I've got a simulant after me, and he's crankier than a dinosaur who's just eaten a really hot vindaloo."

Rimmer flared his nostrils nervously. "Simulant?"

Lister nodded. "Yeh. See, I've got 'is golden guitar, an' 'e wants it back."

"Well, that's a teensy bit of a problem."

"Why?" Lister wanted to know.

"When the polymorph sucked out my decency, it took my bravery with it," Rimmer admitted. "I'm an abject coward."

"I'm sure the Wizard of Hol will be able to give you yer bravery back, too," Lister reassured him wearily.

"You think so?"

"Why not?"

Rimmer snapped to attention. "Then let's be off."

As the pair set off down the road, Rimmer began to sing.

"If I had my bravery back…I could while away the hours, beating up the flowers, fighting all the nuts. And my fists I'd be swinging while my mouth insults be flinging, if I only had the guts. I would battle any villain, for men – especially women! – in trouble or in pain."

Lister joined in. "With the foes you'd be fightin', yer fists'd have to be like lightnin', if you only had the guts."  
Rimmer looked about to continue, then stopped abruptly. "What the hell are we doing?"

Lister shrugged. "Dunno, man. C'mon, let's go."

As they walked off, Lister again began singing. "I didn't come here lookin' for trouble, I just came to do the Red Brick Road shuffle…"

* * *

They travelled along the Red Brick Road for a bit until they came to a forest. On the ground, there sat a small red toaster.

**_"Good morning, sirs. Would you like some toast?" the toaster asked chirpily. _**

Lister had to consider that. He _was getting hungry, but he'd sort of set his hopes on finding a grove of curry trees somewhere in this bizarre world._

"No thanks," he replied kindly but firmly.

**_"How about a muffin?"_**

"Nope," said Lister, rapidly getting tired of this talkative toaster.

**_"What about a waffle?"_**

It took a full ten minutes to convince the toaster that neither Lister nor Rimmer wanted any toast, muffins, waffles, teacakes, buns, baps, baguettes or bagels, croissants, crumpets, pancakes, potato cakes and hot-cross buns…and DEFINITELY no smegging flapjacks!

The toaster thought for a moment. **_"Would anyone like any toast?"_**

"Didn't you hear what he just said, you glorified heater?" Rimmer sneered.

**_"I thought you might have changed your mind in the meantime."_**

Lister lost it. "NO SMEGGING TOAST!"  
If the toaster had possessed a face, he would have had a mournful expression on it. **_"But I am a toaster. It is my raison d'etre. I toast, therefore I am. If you don't want any toast, why did he repair me?"_**

"'He'? 'He' who?" Lister asked, completely ignoring good grammar.

Rimmer pointed off beyond the toaster. "I think it means him."

It was a rather odd-shaped individual who looked like he'd taken his car to the crusher's and forgotten to get out. The individual wore a plastic tuxedo, and a blank expression on its cubed face.

"A mechanoid!" Lister exclaimed.

"Now hold on," Rimmer cautioned, "this mechanoid might not be of the friendliest sort."

"Shows how much you know," Lister scoffed. "Mechanoids're programmed to serve humans. He's not gonna hurt us."

Feeling around the mechanoid's back, Lister located the start-up switch and flicked it. The mechanoid's eyelids fluttered, and he sprang to life.

"Oh. Oh my. Goodness gracious me, I must have gone offline for some reason," the mechanoid chattered. "I am in your debt, Mister…er…Mister…"

"Lister. Dave Lister. And this is Rimmer."

The mechanoid bowed deeply. "How do you do? I am Kryten 2X4B 523P…though I don't much like the 2X4B. I think it's a jerky middle name. Still, it could be worse. I once knew an android whose middle name was 2_Q4B." Kryten gave a breathy, forced laugh. "Poor sucker!"_

Lister shrugged. "Oh well. You're alright now."

"All right?" Kryten chuckled again. "Look at me, sir. Beside the fact that I have a head shaped like a freak formation of mashed potato, I've still got the mental settings I did when I was assembled. To be blunt, sir: I want to break my programming, be more like a human."

"Alright, let's try something," Lister suggested. He pointed to Rimmer. "Call this man a smeghead."

Despite Rimmer's protestations, Kryten screwed up his courage and tried it. "Sir, you're a smeeeee...a smeeeee heeeeeee…a smerrrrg heeeeeaaa…! It's no good, sir, I just can't do it!"

The mechanoid's eyelids fluttered again, and his head vibrated rapidly. "Switch to 'song mode'."

With that as a warning, Kryten burst into song.

"When a mechanoid's a vassal, he should not have these hassles. And yet I'm torn inside. Just because I'm presumin' that I could be kinda human, if only I could lie. I'd be vicious, I'd be rotten, and awfully misbegotten, giving the shoulder cold. I would diss all the sparrows, and the boy who shoots the arrows, if I could only break the mould. Picture me...a balcony...above a voice sings low…"

From nowhere, a voice that sounded like a female version of Kryten's said, "Make love to me, you horny dude!"

"I hear a beat! How sweet!" Kryten swooned. "Just to play with people's emotions: jealousy, devotion – and really feel the part. I could copy just what he said, and I'd mock and laugh at the dead, if I could only be a smeeeee…smeeerrrg heeeeaaa!" Kryten broke out of song and cursed. "Oh, damn my programming!"

"Well, maybe the Wizard of Hol can help you break yer programming," Lister suggested. "We're goin' to see him now."

"Do you think so, sir?" Kryten's face had the look of a starving dog being offered a choice piece of sirloin steak.

"Damn straight!" Lister replied cheerily. "Well, he's got to, hasn't he? I mean, we've come all this way already…"

**"Long?" a deep metallic voice asked incredulously. It was the Sinister Simulant of the Other Space Sector.**

**"You call that long, eh? You've only just begun!" He laughed a hissing sort of a laugh. ****"Bet youse've forgotten about me, eh? Well, I 'aven't forgotten you!"**

The Simulant cast his beady little eyes around at the trio. **"Got a little 'elp now, do ya? I'd stay away from 'im if I were you."**

He pointed a rusty finger at Rimmer. **"Or I'll use you as a hologrammatic punchin' bag!"**

The finger moved to Kryten. **"And you – I'll turn you into spare parts!"**

The Simulant slung a bazookoid from behind his back and aimed it squarely at Rimmer. **"'Ow about a li'l target practice, hologram?"**

Rimmer gulped, and quickly checked his pants. Still dry, thank goodness. "You can't hurt me with that – I'm intangible."

The Simulant cocked the bazookoid. **"It's loaded wiv a hologrammatic charge."**

He fired, and Rimmer had to dance about to avoid getting hit by the hologrammatic energy bolts.

The Simulant laughed heartily at Rimmer's antics, then speared Lister with his gaze. 

**"As for you, 'uman, I 'ope you 'ave a safe journey to the Wizard of 'Ol!" he jeered, then disappeared in a puff of sulphuric smoke.******

Rimmer somehow recovered most of his courage, and waved a fist at the disappearing Simulant. "Yeah, run, you coward, run! Make me into a hologrammatic punching bag, eh? We'll soon see about that, me-laddo!"

Kryten nodded firmly. "Indeed. I shall do my best to ensure you get to the Wizard, Mister Lister sir, whether I can break my programming or not." 

The mechanoid made a dismissive noise that sounded a lot like a sneeze. "Spare parts? Just let him try to make spare parts out of me!" he huffed bravely.

"Cheers, guys. I really appreciate it, y'know?" Lister said gratefully. "It's weird…I feel as if I've known you for ages!"

Rimmer sneered. "I don't see how, modo. You weren't around when I died and was brought back as a hologram, now, were you?" he droned derisively.

"And you weren't there when I was being assembled at DivaDroid Incorporated, were you, sir?" Kryten chipped in.

"Not exactly, no," Lister admitted. "Doesn't matter, though, eh? We're here, and on our way to the Crimson City."

"To coin a phrase, 'damn straight', sir!" Kryten agreed heartily.

"Quite," was all Rimmer had to say.

As they started off down the Red Brick Road, Lister started singing again.

"I didn't come here lookin' for trouble, I just came to do the Red Brick Road shuffle…"

"That's getting really irritating, you know that…" Rimmer chided him.


	3. Wizard Of Hol - Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: _The Wizard Of Oz belongs to MGM. __Red Dwarf belongs to Grant-Naylor. I own nothing, __nothing!_**

**Acknowledgements: In writing this, I referred greatly to _The Wizard Of Oz script I found at The Daily Script, and also several __Red Dwarf scripts from the Red Dwarf scripts archive._**

**Later…**

The trio came to a dark, mysterious, spooky-looking forest.

"Well, this is certainly a dark, mysterious, spooky-lookin' forest, ain't it?" Lister commented.

"Yes," Rimmer mused. "And it's likely to get darker before it gets lighter."

"D'you suppose we'll come across any animals?"

"We might, Mister Lister, sir," Kryten told him helpfully.

"Like what?"

"Well, sir, like Gelfs and emohawks and space weevils."

"Gelfs?" Lister repeated.

"And emohawks?" Rimmer swallowed nervously.

"And space weevils." Kryten finished.

The three continued on their way, a bit more warily this time.

"Gelfs and emohawks and space weevils, oh man," Lister breathed. "Gelfs and emohawks and space weevils, oh man. Gelfs and emohawks and space weevils, oh man. Gelfs and emohawks and space weevils, oh man…"

His anxious mantra was suddenly broken by a loud crash, and a bloodcurdling moan. Rimmer immediately dove for cover, while Kryten moved into a position where he could better protect his human master.

"That must be one huge smeggin' animal to make such a noise!" Lister observed.

The crashing got closer, and so did the moans. Just as Lister was reaching for the bazookoid, a figure fell onto the road in front of him. It was a tall, lanky man, wearing a nylon shirt, sideways-ironed flares, white socks with plastic sandals, and a decidedly unfashionable cardigan. His hair was cut in that awful 'pudding-bowl' style, and his teeth protruded nerdily from beneath his lips. To put it bluntly…this guy was a total geek. The Duke of Dork himself.

"Oooooh…" the geek moaned, clutching his injured head. As he got to his feet, he struck his head on Lister's bazookoid and fell to the ground again.

"Who the smeg're you?" Lister felt compelled to ask.

"The name's Duane Dibbley," the geek replied. "Believe it or not, I used to be cool!"

Rimmer, having crawled out from his hiding place, snorted scornfully. "You? Cool? Look at you! You're too geeky even for a science-fiction convention!"

"It's true!" Duane insisted. "I used to be the coolest thing in the forest, until this emotion-sucking polymorph came along and took all my cool! Now I got no style, no sophistication…"

As if to prove his point, Duane managed to somehow trip over his own feet and land sprawling in the dirt again.

"You see?! I'm a wreck!"

Lister lowered the bazookoid. He'd kept it up not because he thought Duane a threat, but because he thought he may have had to kill the poor blighter out of pure mercy.

"Y'know, we're on our way to visit the Wizard of Hol. We're gonna try and get 'im 'is decency back, and 'im to break 'is programming. Maybe 'e could give you back yer cool."

"You really think so?" Duane said enthusiastically, spraying spittle everywhere as he spoke.

"No worries, man! You ready to go?"

Duane thought for a moment. "Just let me check… Thermos, sandwiches, corn plasters, telephone money, dandruff brush, animal footprint chart…and one triple thick condom."

Seeing the others' bemused and disbelieving expressions, he shrugged. "You never know!" he said optimistically.

"Alright, then," Lister said. "Let's be off, then."

As they walked, Duane told them of his frustrations in song.

"It's sad, believe me, sirs, when you're born to be a nerd, without the style and rules. But fashion would be what I seek  – be a legend, not a geek – if I only could be cool. I'm afraid there's no denyin': fashion laws I'm defyin' – a fate I just don't rule. I'd be cool as a blizzard…"

"I'd be brave as a lizard," Rimmer interjected.

"I'd be variable as a gizzard," Kryten chimed in, secretly hating the fact that he got stuck with the bad rhyme.

"If the Wizard is a wizard worth 'is smeg," Lister reminded them.

"Then I'm sure to get to be brave," Rimmer said.

"Break my programming," from Kryten.

"Get home," Lister put in.

"Be cool," Duane finished.

As they walked off down the road, Lister started singing again.

"I didn't come here lookin' for trouble, I just came to do the Red Brick Road shuffle…"

"Lister, what did I say about that…?" Rimmer warned.

* * *

The new quartet may not have been quite so merry if they knew they were being watched by sinister eyes. The image of them walking down the Red Brick Road were displayed on gigantic monitors in the Sinister Simulant of the Other Space Sector's hideout.

**"So! You won't take warnin', eh?" the Simulant sniggered. ****"All the worse for you, then. I'll take care of you now instead of later! Ha! When I gain that golden guitar, my power will be the greatest in the universe! And now, my li'l friends! Som'fing with poison in it, I fink. Dreadful to the eye, and searing to the smell! Curries…curries will make 'em sleep. Sleep…"**

* * *

"Look! Crimson City, just beyond this field of…"

Lister couldn't believe his eyes. He'd found his own personal Nirvana – an entire field of curries.

"Smeggin' hell…" he breathed. "I've died and gone to smeggin' heaven…"

Immediately, he bent down and started to scoff down as much curry as he could.

"Er, Lister, shouldn't we be heading for the Crimson City?" That Rimmer, always such a stick-in-the-mud.

"Chill out, man," Lister managed to get out between mouthfuls of vindaloo. "I'm just havin' a bit o' lunch, y'know?"

Before long, hunger got the better of Duane, and he too tucked into the curries. Between them, they consumed an area bout three squared metres in area. It was only then that Lister felt anything but appetite.

"Urrrgggh…tired…need sleep…"

Rimmer put on his 'alarmed' expression. "Lister…probably not a good idea…"

"Just a few winks, man…" Lister got out before he collapsed, snoring on the ground.

"You know, I think…he's…onto…something…" Duane yawned, and fell down next to Lister.

"Oh my!" Kryten fretted. "What are we going to do? We can't just leave them here!"

"We can't?" Rimmer asked in all seriousness.

"No, sir!" Kryten looked about to blow a circuit or two. "We can't! We have to carry them out of this field!"

"I can't touch anything, remember? I'm a hologram," Rimmer reminded him. "You'll have to do it yourself."

Kryten bent down and hauled Lister over his left shoulder. When he tried to lift Duane Dibbley over his right shoulder, the mechanoid overbalanced and fell backwards.

"It's no use, sir!" Kryten moaned. "We can't get them out of here, and if they stay here, they'll surely die!"

Rimmer stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I bet this is the work of that Sinister Simulant. He must've planted these poisoned curries here to get Lister's golden guitar from him!"

"Help! Help!!" Kryten bellowed.

"What are you screaming for, you gimboid? No one'll hear you!" Rimmer berated him.

"Help!! Help!!!" Kryten continued, not paying Rimmer any mind at all.

His cries did not go unheeded, however. Kristine had heard his plaintive pleas, and had decided to lend a hand.

Small, silvery cylinders began to sprout from the ground. Kryten picked one up and examined it.

"Leopard Lager? Of course! The only thing that can kill a curry!"

His squarish plastic fingers ripped the ring-pull off, and he tipped the can's contents over Lister and Duane. It took a couple of cans' worth of the thin, fizzy beer, but eventually, Lister and Duane stirred.

"Uuuurrrrrgh…" Lister groaned. "Man, I could really go for a kebab right about now…"

Kryten nodded kindly. "Suggest we leave any further ingestion of foodstuffs until we reach the Crimson City, sir."

* * *

While the quartet set off for the Crimson City again, celebrating their deliverance from death, the Sinister Simulant of the Other Space Sector wasn't so cheery.

**"Curse it!" he ranted. ****"That 'uman's always got someone 'elpin' 'im! Guitar or no guitar, I'm still great enough to conquer 'im.  And woe to those 'oo try to stop me!"**

* * *

"Look! There it is! The Crimson City!"

Lister wasn't the only one pleased to see the object of their search. The sight even brought a smile to Rimmer's unfriendly face.

But the Simulant had his eyes set on the Crimson City too. Leaping onto his space-bike, he gunned the engine and took off in a cloud of smog.

Meanwhile, Lister and his posse had reached the gateway of the Crimson City, and had pressed the door buzzer. A podgy-faced man with a military-style haircut (thinning on top) poked his head out of a hatch above the door. **This, for those who haven't realised, is meant to be Captain Hollister—TFG**

"State your business," he said in a bored American voice.

"We've come to see the Wizard of Hol," Lister replied.

"The Wizard?" the doorman repeated incredulously. "But nobody can see the Great Hol! Nobody's ever seen the Great Hol! Even _I've never seen him!"_

Lister furrowed his brow. "Then 'ow do you know there is one?"

The doorman faltered for a second at that. "Because he…I…oh, you're wasting my time!"

"Listen here, me-laddo," Rimmer interjected. "We're here to see this Wizard of yours, and we're not going to take 'no' for an answer! Got that, Private Nobody?"

"Yeah, and besides, this girl named Kristine sent me!" Lister put in.

The doorman raised an eyebrow. "Prove it."

Lister swung the golden guitar over his shoulder to display it for all to see. "I've got the golden guitar she gave me," he said, a little unnecessarily.

The doorman squinted as he examined the shining instrument. "Well, so you have! Why didn't you say so in the first place?"

The doorman's head ducked behind the gates for a second.

"Polygraph checks out…" he mumbled, then popped his head out the hatch again.

"Come in!"

The gates opened, and Lister's posse entered. What met their eyes amazed them. The entire city looked to be constructed like a spaceship, all red-painted metal studded with rivets. A man dressed in skin-tight green Lycra and a silvery facemask standing next to a doorway waved them over. **This is Legion, for those who can't keep up—TFG**

"You gonna take us to the Wizard, eh?" Lister inquired.

"The Wizard? Oh yes," the man replied in a very cultured voice. "But first, we'll take you somewhere where you can clean up a little."


	4. Wizard Of Hol - Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: _The Wizard Of Oz belongs to MGM. __Red Dwarf belongs to Grant-Naylor. I own nothing, __nothing!_**

**Acknowledgements: In writing this, I referred greatly to _The Wizard Of Oz script I found at The Daily Script, and also several __Red Dwarf scripts from the Red Dwarf scripts archive._**

And clean them up they did. Rimmer was given a hard-light body, and his light bee was upgraded. Kryten's circuitry and other bits were all cleaned and replaced as necessary, and his plastic tuxedo was replaced with a suit of blocky, gun-metal-grey armour. Duane Dibbley insisted on keeping his unfashionable ensemble, but they were freshly laundered and pressed for him anyway. And Lister? He was given the first bath he'd had in some weeks, his finger- and toenails were trimmed, his dreadlocks soaked in shampoo till they were flexible again, and his athlete's foot treated. His clothes, too, were washed for him, so much so that he didn't quite feel like himself in them any more.

Just as the clean-up session had finished, they heard a loud bang from overhead. A lone figure seemed to be sky-writing with the emissions from his space-bike…

"Who's that?" Duane asked.

"Oh, smeg," Lister cursed. "It's that smeggin' simulant."

Another loud backfiring noise signalled the end of the sky-written message: SURRENDER, LISTER. S.S.O.T.O.S.S.

"I think now would be a good time to see that Wizard," Rimmer suggested from his hiding place under a table.

"Good idea," Lister agreed, and led the way.

* * *

On the way to the Wizard's chambers, the posse were all very excited.

"I can feel my bravery coming back already!" Rimmer exclaimed.

"I do believe I'm about to have a breakthrough in breaking my programming," Kryten mused.

"Hope I haven't missed Curry Night back home," Lister said, almost drooling at the thought of a good vindaloo.

"In an hour, I'm gonna be the coolest thing in the forest again!" Duane grinned toothily, which was pretty much the only way he _could grin._

Somehow managing to click his fingers in some semblance of rhythm, the Duke of Dork started singing **to the tune of the 'Tongue-Tied' song—TFG.**

"When I saw you for the first time, my knees began to quiver, and I got a funny feeling in my kidneys and my liver. My hands, they started shaking, my heart began a-thumping. My breakfast left my body, now, darling, tell me something… Why do you make me tongue-tied, tongue-tied, whenever you are near me? Tied-tongue, tied-tongue, whenever you're around. When I saw you 'cross the dance floor, I thought of birds and bees, but when I tried to speak to you, my tongue unravelled to my knees. I tried to say I love you, but it came out kinda wrong, girl. It sounded like…"

It was then that his song was interrupted by the guard patrolling the entrance to the Wizard's sanctum.

"The Wizard says to smeg off!" he bellowed, then stormed off. Lister looked around at his friends for a moment, then blocked the guard's path. He aimed his bazookoid (now all shiny and clean) directly at the guard's heart.

"I don't think so, matey. We're gettin' in to see that Wizard whether you like it or not. Now, open that door."

The guard, his eyes firmly focussed on the very large gun being aimed at him, inched around and opened the door. As they passed through, Lister nodded at him approvingly, Rimmer turned up his nose at him, Kryten looked apologetic, and Duane just looked geeky.

They gave to a great computer screen that took up an entire wall. On it was a very large, very bald, very cranky-looking male face. It wore a thin black goatee on part of its chin, and its eyes flashed with intelligence and unyielding competence. **This is Queeg, for any who don't get it yet—TFG**

**"I am Hol, the Great and Powerful," the face rumbled in a deep, authoritative voice. ****"Who are you?"**

Lister, wishing he'd brought a bigger gun, stepped forward. "Er…Dave Lister…sir. We've come to ask…"

**"SILENCE!" The Wizard of Hol thundered. ****"The Great and Powerful Hol knows why you have come. Step forward, mechanoid!"**

Shakily, Kryten stepped forward.

**"You dare to come to me to break your programming? You outdated, slow, amazingly ugly, glorified toilet scrubber!"**

Poor Kryten's anxiety chip went into overload. "Yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy…"

Somehow, he managed to stagger back to the group.

**"And you, Duane Dibbley, have the effrontery to ask for your cool back. You no-style gimbo with teeth the druids could use as a place of worship!"**

Duane managed to get out a full sentence, albeit with a little stuttering and spitting. "Y-yes, Your Wizardness…Your Computerness…Your Supreme Hard-Driveness…"

**"And as for you, hologram…**

Rimmer fell backwards in an abrupt faint.

"Oi!" Lister yelled. "What's the big idea, man? 'E came to you fer help, and you've gone and made 'im faint!" Lister thought for a moment, then spoke again. "How'd you do it?"

**"Silence, human!" Hol bellowed. ****"The beneficent Hol has every intention of granting your requests! But first, you must prove yourselves worthy, by performing a very small task: bring me the space-bike of the Sinister Simulant of the Other Space Sector."**

"But we'll 'ave to kill 'im to get it!" Lister pointed out as he helped Rimmer to his feet.

**"Bring me his space-bike, and your requests shall be granted," Hol boomed.**

"But…suppose he kills us first?" Rimmer asked.

**"MOVE IT, SUCKAS!!"**

That was it. Rimmer bolted out of the room, and dove straight through the nearest window in an effort to get away from the terrible, angry thing in the next room.

* * *

**Much later…**

Lister and his posse trekked through a deep, dark wood, bazookoids loaded and ready. Well, Duane had already shot his off accidentally three times now, but overall, they were prepared.

The Simulant, however, was much more prepared. He'd seen them coming a mile away. Turning to the head of his army of Winged Gelfs, he spoke.

**"Take yer army to the 'aunted Forest, and bring me that 'uman! Do what ya like wiv the others, but I want 'im alive and un'armed! Take special care of that golden guitar. I want that most of all. Now, fly! Fly! Bring me that 'uman and 'is guitar! Fly! Fly! Fly!"**

The head Gelf nodded, grunted something in its own language, and took off. It was joined in mid-air by hundreds of other Winged Gelfs just like it. Like a flock of birds, the Winged Gelfs moved into formation and headed for the Haunted Forest.

It wasn't long before they found Lister's posse, and attacked in full force. The Gelfs ripped the bazookoids from their hands, leaving them unarmed and pretty much helpless. Two Gelfs grabbed onto Lister, and hoisted him, kicking and screaming, into the air.

"Mister Lister!" Kryten cried as he fought off a Winged Gelf by squirting dishwashing detergent in its face.

"Help! Help!" Rimmer yelled. One of the Gelfs was armed with an electromagnetic disruptor, which was in the process of tearing the hologram apart.

"I can't help you!" Duane replied. "I'm too busy here!"

Grabbing one of the Gelfs by the arm, the Duke of Dork used his abnormally large teeth for a good purpose besides opening bottles, chomping down on the Gelf's arm with uncharacteristic viciousness.

When the other Winged Gelfs saw that their mission was complete, they all took off after the ones carrying Lister. Now freed from all other engagements, Kryten and Duane turned their attentions to the matter of Rimmer.

"Goodness me, sir, you're all over the place!" Kryten observed helpfully.

"I know that, Captain Bog-Bot!" Rimmer snapped. "Just put me back together again."

"I'll have to reset your light bee, sir," Kryten told him. "You may feel a momentary loss of consciousness."

Kryten picked up Rimmer's disembodied light bee, examined it, and flicked a switch off, then on again. Rimmer's scattered body turned monochrome, disappeared, then reappeared around the light bee, full and healthy as could be.

"Where could those things be taking Lister?" Duane wondered.

"I think there might be a good place to start looking, sir," Kryten answered, pointing the dark and sinister building crouching like a spider atop a hill.


	5. Wizard Of Hol - Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: _The Wizard Of Oz belongs to MGM. __Red Dwarf belongs to Grant-Naylor. I own nothing, __nothing!_**

**Acknowledgements: In writing this, I referred greatly to _The Wizard Of Oz script I found at The Daily Script, and also several __Red Dwarf scripts from the Red Dwarf scripts archive._**

"Oi! Give us it back!"

The Sinister Simulant of the Other Space Sector had in his hands an item of great personal worth to Lister – his last shami kebab that he'd managed to sneak out of the Crimson City.

**"All in good time, when you give me that golden guitar!" the Simulant snickered.**

"No smeggin' way!" Lister replied firmly. "Kristine told me not to."

**"Alright then." The Simulant grinned evilly, and poised the kebab over his mouth, ready to take a bite. Lister nearly began to drool, so hungry did the sight make him.**

"Alright, alright. You can have the smeggin' guitar!"

The Simulant lowered the kebab. **"I knew you'd see reason."**

Bending down, the Simulant tried to unstrap the guitar, but a burst of energy prevented him from doing so.

"Sorry, man, not my fault," Lister said. "Now, how 'bout that kebab…"

**"No!" the Simulant growled. ****"Should've remembered – that guitar will never come off…as long as you're alive!"**

As Lister reacted with more than a little shock, the Simulant enjoyed every moment. **"But that's not what worries me, it's '_ow to do it. You've gotta do these fings right, or the technology's damaged."_**

Turning to a computer console, the Simulant tapped a few buttons. A monitor lit up with a countdown on it: twenty minutes.

**"See this?" the Simulant asked rhetorically. ****"That's 'ow long you've got to be alive. It ain't long, is it? I can't wait forever to get that guitar!"**

With that, the Simulant left the room, snickering evilly. Lister sighed deeply. As he chewed his kebab (the Simulant having left it in there with him), he wondered if Kryten, Rimmer and Duane would be able to get their smeg together enough to rescue him…

* * *

As it happened, Kryten, Rimmer and Duane were on a rocky outcropping right near the Simulant's hideout. As they surveyed the scene, they noticed patrols of armed Gelfs patrolling the entrance.

"Any ideas on how to get in there?" Rimmer asked.

"I think I may have one, sir," Kryten said, "but it's a little risky…"

* * *

Rimmer shook his head in amazement. "I can't believe we're doing this."

"I look great!" Duane exclaimed. He was dressed up as a Gelf, protruding belly and all.

"Now, sir, let me just modify your light bee…" Kryten plunged his hand into the now-intangible Rimmer, fiddled about for a moment, then removed his hand. Rimmer's image shimmered, and he took on the appearance of a very large and very hairy Gelf.

"Come on, then," Rimmer retorted, pushing Kryten along. The plan was to gain entry into the stronghold by pretending to be Gelfs, with Kryten as their prisoner. Once inside, all they had to do was find Lister and escape.

The trio moved down the rocky outcropping and along the path to the Simulant's hideout.

Just as they entered the gates, a Gelf stopped them and barked something in Gelf-language at them.

"Ack-hack-hak-ahk-ack-hakkk!" Rimmer grunted, hoping he sounded authentic enough, and that he wasn't doing something stupid like propositioning this disgusting creature.

The Gelf thought for a moment, made a noise that could have been either laughing or burping, and let the three pass.

"Whew! That was close!" Duane said. The Gelf behind him turned around and barked something else.

"Uh…ak-hack-kak-ka-hak-hak!" Duane replied. That seemed to satisfy the Gelf, and he left them alone.

* * *

Meanwhile, time was rapidly running out for Lister…

* * *

Thankfully, Rimmer, Kryten and Duane had reached his prison.

"Lister! Are you in there?" Rimmer asked.

"Yeah, I'm here! Quick, before the timer runs out!" Lister replied.

Without stopping to ask what all that nonsense about a timer was about, the trio began to plan how to get in the room without any bazookoids.

"We need a battering ram," Rimmer decided. "Something about six foot long, with a hard head…"

The only thing they could see that fit that description was Kryten, so Rimmer and Duane picked him up, backed down the stairs, then charged forward.

Kryten's head struck the door hard, blowing it wide open. As the mechanoid staggered around, Lister was immediately at his side.

"You okay, man?"

"I'm fine, thank you, Susan," was the reply.

As the posse, reunited at last, prepared to make their escape, the Simulant reappeared.

**"Goin' so soon?" he hissed. ****"I wouldn't 'ear of it!"**

A horde of Gelf guards charged into the room, aiming their pointy sticks at the trapped posse.

**"Don't 'urt them right away," the Simulant was saying. ****"We'll let 'em fink about it a bit first!"**

The Simulant advanced menacingly on Lister. **"Can you imagine wot I'm gunna do wiv you, 'uman?"**

"Yeh," Lister replied. "You're gonna roast me an' eat me with a bit o' mint sauce."

The Simulant looked disappointed – obviously, Lister had got it right.

Kryten, meanwhile, had noticed a derelict shuttlecraft suspended inexplicably at the top of the room. His mechanical eyes followed the cable down to a bracket right next to him.

"You're not roasting anyone today!" Kryten declared, using his bionic strength to rip apart the cord. The derelict shuttle crashed down on top of the Gelf army, pinning them helplessly.

"Come on, sirs." Kryten grabbed Lister's arm. "Time to go!"

As the posse escaped, the Simulant fumed with rage. **"Get 'em! They're gettin' away! Get 'em! Get 'em!!"**

The quartet raced down the long flight of stairs, and came to a large hall. As they tried to escape out the left-hand door, an army of Gelf guards blocked their path. Turning around, they found another throng of Gelf guards blocking off that option, too.

**"Well, well, well…" the Simulant hissed. ****"Four li'l rats all in a trap. The last to go will see the first three go before 'im!"**

The Sinister Simulant picked up a bulky-looking pistol from a bracket on the wall.

**"'Ow about a li'l electromagnetism, 'ologram?"**

"You can't scare me. I'm a coward – I'm always scared!" Rimmer pointed out, not without a bit of nervousness to his voice.

The Simulant fired the pistol, and Rimmer's hologrammatic body automatically caught fire.

"I'm…burning?" Rimmer couldn't believe it at first, but his opinion quickly changed. "I'm burning! I'm _burning!!!"_

Thinking quickly, Lister grabbed a handy computer control device that just happened to be standing nearby and shot it at Rimmer. The energy put out the hologrammatic fire burning Rimmer, but some of it also splashed on the Simulant.

**"Gaaahhh!" the Simulant roared. ****"You rotten 'uman! What've you done to me?!"**

"What _have I done to 'im?" Lister himself wondered._

"I think that device was designed not only to put out hologrammatic fires, sir," Kryten hypothesised, "but it was also a nega-drive – a huge store of negative emotional energy. You must've fired that emotional energy at the Simulant!"

**"It's so hopeless…" the Simulant was grumbling. ****"I'm so ugly…I never get invited to parties!"**

"Uh oh, he's gonna blow!" Lister realised, and quickly ducked behind the nearest pillar.

**"I HATE EVERYFING!!!" the Simulant bawled, firing his gun in the air wildly. The Simulant's eyeballs bulged out of their sockets, then, precisely half a second later, his entire head exploded.**

What was left of the Sinister Simulant of the Other Space Sector's head fell to the ground with what seemed like a resounding clunk. The Gelf army all crowded around, as if to make sure he was really dead.

"Hak-ak-gak-kak-ack-kack-hack-kak," one of the Gelfs grunted. "Gak-k-ahk-hak-hack-kk."

"Just let me translate that, sir," Kryten offered. "He says, 'He's dead. You've killed him.'"

"Sorry, man, it was an accident," Lister apologised. He wasn't really that sorry, but he was going to say anything to avoid being skewered by Gelf spears.

"Gak-gack-ack-hhk-kka-hack-ack-kak-hak-hack-ack-kak-hak," the Gelf leader coughed and spluttered again.

"He says, 'All hail the podgy one! The Sinister Simulant is dead!'" Kryten translated.

"Gak-gack-ack-kka-hack-ack-kak-hak-hack-ack-kak-hak! Gak-gack-ack-kka-hack-ack-kak-hak-hack-ack-kak-hak! Gak-gack-ack-kka-hack-ack-kak-hak-hack-ack-kak-hak!!" the Gelf army chanted.

"Hey, ask 'im if we can keep the space-bike," Lister said.

"Gak-ka-kkk-hhk-akk-kak-hack-ack-kack-ahk," Kryten told the Gelf leader, who responded with a simple, "Ga-kack-kk."

"He says, 'Yes, go for your life', sir," Kryten interpreted.

"Brutal," was all Lister had to say about it.

* * *

**The Wizard of Hol's chamber…**

**"Do my eyes deceive me? All of you are still alive? And with the Sinister Simulant of the Other Space Sector's space-bike?"**

Lister nodded. "Yeh. We blew 'im up."

**"Very resourceful," the Wizard admitted.**

After what he thought was a suitable pause, Lister spoke up again. "So…how 'bout those promises you made?"

**"Not so fast!" Hol thundered. ****"I'll have to give the matter a little thought. Go away and come back tomorrow!"**

"WHAT?!" all four of the posse cried.

"Look here, me-laddo," Rimmer said firmly in an uncharacteristic display of bravery. "I think you've had quite long enough to think about it."

"We've done what you asked, Mister Hol, sir," Kryten said, with more than a little irritation.

**"SILENCE!!" the face on the screen roared. ****"Do not arouse the wrath of the Great and Powerful Hol! I said, come back tomorrow!"**

Duane decided that now might be a good time to use the bathroom. He noticed a curtained-off area nearby, and thought that must be the bog. As he pulled back the curtain, he had one of his typical falls, and ripped the curtain down. In doing so, he revealed the occupant of that curtained-off room. It was a small monitor attached to a wheeled trolley. The face on the computer screen was much different to the one on the large monitor. It, too, was bald, but it was Caucasian rather than black, and had less intelligence in the eyes. One would almost call the face 'weirded-out'.

**"Do you presume to criticise the Great and Powerful Hol, you ungrateful creatures?!" the larger Hol face was saying. ****"Think yourselves lucky that I'm giving you an audience tomorrow instead of in three million years' time!"**

It was then that Lister, Kryten and Rimmer noticed the 'other' Hol. They couldn't believe their eyes. Somehow, their gazes caused the smaller monitor to turn around, glance at them, and jump with fright, as much as he could on the screen.

"Oh! The…**the Great Hol has spoken!"**

"Who the smeg are you?" Lister wanted to know.

The computer replied. **"Pay no attention to the computer behind the curtain. The Great Hol has spoken!!"**

"Who the smeg _are you?!" Lister repeated._

"I'm the Great and Powerful Wizard of Hol," the computer replied in a Northern accent.

"No way!" Lister couldn't believe it.

"It's true. I'm the Wizard of Hol."

"You complete and total smeghead!" Rimmer yelled.

"You're right. I'm a smeghead," Hol replied. 

"You've been unbelievably…naughty!" Kryten told him with a lot of fire in his voice.

"Well, in computer jargon, my plans've all gone tits-up," Hol admitted.

"You'd better be powerful enough to send Mister Lister home!" Kryten said.

"Yeah!" Duane interjected. "And what about the decency you promised Rimmer?"

"Or helping Kryten to break his programming?" Rimmer added.

"Or Duane's cool?" Lister finished.

"The truth is," Hol said, "you've already got all those things."

"Eh?" everyone said.

"Well, Kryten," Hol began, "you think you haven't been able to break your programming?"

"That's correct, sir," Kryten confirmed.

"Well, think about it. Would a mechanoid who wasn't able to break his programming think outside the square, as you did to rescue Lister? And just then, you showed anger at what you thought was my betrayal of you. That, my odd-shaped friend, is breaking your programming. To prove it, call Rimmer a smeghead."

Kryten turned to Rimmer, not expecting anything revolutionary.

"Sir, you are a smeee…a smeghead." Kryten's face lit up like a light bulb. "Hah! I did it!!"

"Well done, Kryten. Now, Rimmer," Hol began, "you may think of yourself as a weaselly sort of guy. A sad, pathetic, joke of a man. A man who can't outwit a used teabag. A…"

"Yes, alright, get on with it!" Rimmer snapped. 

"Righto," Hol agreed. "If you were really such a self-centred weasel, you wouldn't have hooked up with Lister in the first place. And you certainly wouldn't have gone with the others to rescue him."

A small hypodermic appeared from a slot in the wall.

"I caught the polymorph that attacked you, Rimmer, and extracted your DNA strands from it. Here you go."

The needle plunged itself into Rimmer's arm, and the liquid inside slowly drained. Rimmer's hologrammatic form sputtered, and reformed into a more muscular version of himself, with a more confident face and longer, more heroic hair.

"Hey there," the new Rimmer said heroically. "The name's Rimmer. Ace Rimmer."

"What a guy…" Lister commented.

"Now, Duane," Hol said, "you are under the impression that you are not cool. My friend, 'cool' is a very subjective term. What's cool to one person may not be cool to another. What you have to figure out is what's cool for you."

"Cool for me is what I used to be!" Duane cried.

A second hypodermic extended from the wall. "Well, you're in luck, then. I managed to get your DNA strands out of the polymorph, too. Here you go."

One injection later, and Duane's geeky buck teeth disappeared, and his bowl haircut lengthened into a chic ponytail.

"Aaaaaowww!" the ex-Duke of Dork wailed. "I am gonna have to get out of these clothes, or I'll have to resign my position as the most handsome dude in this room!" He ran out of the room, wailing happily all the way.

Lister grinned, but the grin faded quickly. "I don't think there's a hypodermic needle there that could take me home."

Hol nodded. "Damn right. The only way to get you back home is for me to take you there myself. That is, I would, if I had a ship. Sorry, Dave."

"Smeg," Lister said, disappointedly.

"You could stay here with us, Mister Lister, sir," Kryten suggested.

"I think that may be a moot point, Kryters, old chum," Ace said heroically. "Here comes someone who could help."

He was right. Kristine appeared in a burst of light, smiling beatifically.

"Okay, then. D'you reckon you can help me?" Lister asked.

"You don't need any more help," Kristine told him. "You've always had the power to go home."

"Then why didn't you tell him before?" Kryten inquired.

Kristine shrugged. "He wouldn't have believed me. He had to learn for himself."

"So, what've you learned, Davey-boy?" Ace asked heroically.

"Not much, really," Lister admitted. "Just that you don't often piss off a simulant and live to tell the tale."

Kristine shrugged again. "It'll do. Now, that golden guitar will take you home in two seconds."

"Brutal," Lister said. "I'll see you guys later, eh?"

"Bye, Davey-boy." Ace waved heroically.

"Goodbye, Mister Lister, sir," Kryten said.

"Bye, buddy!" The cool guy formerly known as Duane Dibbley waved from his very stylish new suit.

"So…what've I got to do to get home?" Lister asked.

"Just strum the strings three times, and say, 'There's no place like home'," Kristine told him.

"Okay."

Lister put his fingers to the guitar and strummed tunelessly three times. "There's no place like home..."

* * *

"There's no place like home…"

"Please, Mister Lister, sir, wake up!"

Lister came to, but he wasn't in the Land of Hol any more. He was on _Starbug again, in the medi-bay._

"What happened?" he wanted to know.

"Your escape pod crashed after you blew the simulant ship out of space," Kochanski replied. "You've been in a coma for hours!"

Lister sat up, shaking his head to clear the cobwebs. "Smeg…I dreamed I was in this other land, y'know…and all of you were there…and Rimmer too!"

"Oh, we dream lots of silly things when we've got concussions, sir!" Kryten reassured him.

"Felt so real, though. Almost like an AR program," Lister said.

"Ah well. All that matters is, you're back now, sir. Welcome back to reality."

THE END.


End file.
